


Harley's Holiday Hijinks

by crookedspoon



Series: Femslash Challenges [2]
Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Christmas Tree, F/F, Femslash Yuletide 2014, Ficlet Collection, Misunderstandings, Work In Progress, perhaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tree-trimming and its aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the range and limits of violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trimming the tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt Dec 1, "Trimming the tree".

"There ya go, Red," Harley beamed, whirling about her axe that she'd been swinging, hacking and chopping with for the past half hour or so amid jingles from nearby stores and screams of terrified Christmas shoppers.

She was breathing hard, puffy white clouds popping like bubbles from her mouth, and the sweat she'd worked up a was probably ruining her makeup. Hair was sticking out of her cap and some pine needles must have made it inside her costume, because they were pricking something fierce. None of that detracted from her good cheer. "Now this little darling is no longer a sign of oppression."

"What have you done?" Ivy would have screeched had her voice not fled like a ghost in the morning. She was overcome with joy, surely.

Broken baubles, tufts of tinsel, and severed limbs littered the deserted town square. There was sap everywhere, even on her gloves and hair. But Harley was rather proud of her handiwork. The colossus had fallen.

"You killed it," Ivy said faintly and sank to her knees, gathering nearby branches and clutching them to her breast.

"Ya don't have to thank me," she said benevolently. "Anything to make ya happy, Red."

_"HARLEEEEY!"_


	2. without tenderness, we are all in hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contemplating the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dec 2 "Holiday traditions" at femslashyuletide and #431 "trouble".

Year after year, the same ol' argument: Harley wanted a Christmas tree to decorate and Ivy was being a crusading bitch about it. Plant oppression here, saving the planet there. Harley was getting sick of it, honestly.

But.

Harley was a good girlfriend; she could get behind what was important to Ivy, she really could.

So this time, Harley'd kept her trap shut. This time, she'd wanted to do something nice for Ivy and not clamor about a darn tree for once. She even went out of her way to chop up that monstrosity in the middle of Gotham's Christmas fair to show that she cares.

(Though maybe she was just miffed about _everyone else_ getting to enjoy a prettily spruced up conifer...)

That? Yeah, didn't go so well.

Seriously, was _one_ Christmas without a fight too much to ask for?

Ah, she missed the old days. At least Mr. J had had the right cheer in him for the season. But _he_ used to spend all his energy planning surprises for the big bully B-man instead of simply settling down with her for some eggnog and cookies over re-runs of overplayed and over-televised holiday movies. (Some things never got old.)

If their relationship wasn't effectively over, she might have consider breaking him out again. But he hadn't even called once since returning to his cozy cell, or even sent her a postcard...

She had to patch things up with Ivy or this was gonna be the worst Christmas ever.


	3. with a certain mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the rooftop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dec 3 "Chimney" at femslashyuletide. Chapter title taken from Adrienne Rich's poem "I Dream I'm the Death of Orpheus".

Harley crouched in front of the ventilation vent, poking it in mild confusion. Here she'd imagined herself skidding down the chimney like Santa come early, spraying the room with rainbow-colored candy and good humor to surprise Ivy. But this? She might be small, but she definitely couldn't squeeze through a pipe six inches in diameter. Even _if_ , the night's chill would make certain she'd get stuck in it. Not her idea of fun. A size-shrinking body armor would come in handy right about now.

Now what? Harley wondered as she hopped along the ridge of the roof. If she'd had a better look at Ivy's house when she'd had the chance to, she wouldn't be freezing her nose off up here. There were still the doors and windows to try, but Ivy had likely tripwired them with her sentient plants. Villains didn't go to sleep before they'd dealt with anything that cast a shadow of paranoia.

Ah, Harley was so proud of her gal pal's smarts. Even if they inconvenienced her sometimes.

She'd have to wait inside the greenhouse. At least in there it was cozy warm. She'd slip in through the roof vent and find a nice soft spot to spend the night and some elephant ear leaves to tuck herself in with.

She wished she'd had her babies to snuggle with, though. Their slobber, snore, and animal stink would soothe her right to sleep. At least _they_ wouldn't make a fuss about trees – they'd just pee on them.


	4. the surface of your words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to talk it over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dec 4 "Sledding". Chapter title taken from Adrienne Rich's "Twenty-One Love Poems XVIII".

Harley woke with a crick in her spine and a shadow stretching across her face.

"What are you doing in my greenhouse?" Ivy asked, hands on her hips. The low morning sunlight glowed in her hair, saturating its natural color.

"Um." Harley sat up, a bit dazzled by the display. "Lookin' out for your plants?"

"How chivalric of you," Ivy crossed her arms and eyed the large leaves covering Harley's legs. "But they can fend for themselves."

"Don't worry," Harley added, certain this would crop up sometime. "I didn't pluck them in case you're wondering."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"I, uh... it's cozy in here?" If she could just convince Ivy to take her back in, everything would be easy sledding from here on out. "And I wanted to be near you. I'm sorry for killing that tree, okay?"

Ivy frowned some more. "You don't sound very sincere."

That's because you are one tough nut to crack, Harley thought. All she had to offer were excuses, none of which Ivy would be keen on hearing.

"I apologized. Ain't that enough?"

"And what good are words if you don't mean them?"

"But I do!" Harley skidded closer. Maybe her seated position would lend a more sympathetic cast to her puppy eyes. "I had some time to think it over and realized my mistake."

Ivy narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Harley fondled the tops of Ivy's boots, which were furry like catkins.

"I don't know, Harl. I'm still angry."


	5. the underside of everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greeting cards.

Around midday, the mailman crammed Ivy's postbox with a slew of letters – which was weird, because other than her subscriptions to some botanical journals and the latest news on eco-terrorism or whatever, Ivy rarely received any mail at all. Villains don't.

Curiosity piqued, Harley tiptoed over and fished out the contents. Ad, bill, ad, ad, bill, seasonal salutations from the religious ranks, oh, and from Two-Face, the Riddler, and almost all of their enemies and acquaintances from Arkham. Looked like the doctors at the asylum had subjected the inmates to a group therapy session in greeting card writing and sent out all the overstated outpourings on the same day.

Poor fellas. 

Although... Her pity soon evaporated as she skimmed the scribblings on the backs of the otherwise identical cards – a stock image of a festive tree spreading its decorated branches protectively over ribboned parcels.

_Season's greetings to you both._  
_Stay out of trouble._  
_We don't want to see you again that soon._  
—Harvey. 

_Riddle me this:_  
_Whose beauty is unparalleled and blossoms all year round?_  
_Why yes, my dear. Yours, of course._  
—E. 

Back off, guys. Ivy was still Harley's girlfriend. They just had some issues to work through. Who didn't?

At least Harv had the decency to remember Harley's existence. She decided to put Eddie's continued infatuation with Ivy down to the aftereffects of her brainwash toxins.

Harley sighed and tucked the cards under her arm. Any more of this and she's gonna tear (them) up. Rubbing in what she and Ivy hadn't done this year, because Ivy was too busy creating a poinsettia species that poisoned anyone it came in contact with. (Sometimes, Harley just felt _so_ ignored. Which was half the reason she chopped down that tree. Anything to get Ivy to notice her. In this case though, she _might_ have acted a bit too rashly. Who would have thought that Ivy wouldn't be as thrilled as Harley had been?)

Harley fondly remembered last year, when all Ivy did to her poinsettia was water it. Ah, she'd had so much fun dressing up in her Santa costume and weaving holly wreaths into Ivy's hair – just to have an excuse to give her a kiss whenever her eyes landed upon her. They'd made photos in front of the festively ornamented tropical plants in Ivy's greenhouse. It had been a bother finding a place to hang up the stockings, but it had been the next best thing to the snug living room of her dreams. At least it hadn't been as dreadfully cold as the last hideout she had crashed in with Mr. J.

Thinking it over, it hadn't been so bad. Maybe not a picture book Christmas, but something sweet nonetheless, something that had been entirely their own. She'd like to have that again.

She no longer remembered why she'd been so adamant about getting her own damn Christmas tree. Sure, it would feel more traditional and all, but was a pretend-holiday in the tropics any less fun?


End file.
